


(Un)Kindness

by myeerah



Series: Rusverse [1]
Category: CHERRYH C. J. - Works, Russian Trilogy - C. J. Cherryh
Genre: Community: no_true_pair, F/M, M/M, Mind Control, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-02
Updated: 2011-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-22 03:42:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myeerah/pseuds/myeerah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kavi Chernevog doesn't like to be told no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Un)Kindness

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my KH crossover 'verse, this is set during _Rusalka_.

“You really are remarkable.”

The words filtered through the damp wool feeling in his head. Pyetr blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision, and managed to focus on the finely tooled leather boot in front of his face.

“You’ve managed to keep your mind, and you’ve inspired dear ‘Veshka to behave herself. That’s quite impressive for cattle.” Kavi Chernevog lifted his boot and nudged the toe under Pyetr’s chin, forcing him to look up at an innocently smiling face.

“Stop, Kavi, please!” Eveshka pleaded from somewhere Pyetr couldn’t see.

“You see? Manners and courtesy. The things she’ll do for you,” Chernevog marveled. “Quite remarkable. Stand up.”

It was a wish. Pyetr got his feet under him, head spinning from the lack of air after the last bout of Chernevog wishing the breath from his lungs. His body ached all over, his hearing was muffled, and he couldn’t see very well.

“Health,” Chernevog wished him. “Peace.”

It was impossible to resist, and Pyetr momentarily considered the oddity of wanting to remain in pain and half blinded, but he felt rested and tranquil at the man’s words. He fought for some measure of rage. “You’re nothing but a damn snake,” he said, but couldn’t quite conjure up the rancor he should have felt.

“Mmm, perhaps. But if I’m a snake, then you, little man, are a frightened mouse.” Chernevog stepped closer, touched Pyetr’s face, a whisper of a caress that Pyetr reminded himself he should not welcome, no matter what the bastard wanted him to feel.

“’Veshka, do be a dear and leave us for a moment, won’t you?” Chernevog never took his eyes from Pyetr’s as he spoke.

“No! I won’t leave him to you.” Pyetr caught a glimpse of her, misty, unraveling at the edges, her features unclear but for the abject misery painted on them, before Chernevog commanded his attention once more.

“You’d rather stay?”

Familiar tingles began in Pyetr’s shoulders. He closed his eyes and fought the warm, pleasant sensation and its accompanying weakness that made his knees buckle. If he could see Eveshka right now, he knew what she would look like. All those seeking tendrils of the edges of her form would be wrapped around him, drawing out his life. Keeping his eyes tightly closed, he spared a thought for her, _If you can kill him with it, take it all._ He did his best to ignore her weeping as his knees went out and dropped him to the floor again.

“Really, ‘Veshka,” Chernevog said as the tingles receded, “wouldn’t it be so much easier just to do as I ask? And I was so pleased with your manners.”

“Alright.” She sounded broken. “Please, don’t hurt him.”

“No more than he makes me, my dear. I’d far rather be his friend, though. Wouldn’t you like that, too?”

She fled.

“Pity.”

That rush of wellbeing returned, but Pyetr remained kneeling. He didn’t want to give the snake the satisfaction of knocking him down again. “You’re a worthless coward, Chernevog,” he spat. “Leave her alone.”

“After she went to all the trouble of finding me?” He laughed lightly, pleased as could be. “That wouldn’t be mannerly of me, now would it?” A hand rested lightly on the top of Pyetr’s head, then stroked his hair gently. “I don’t ask for much. I just want you to mind yourself and do what I say. Is that so difficult?”

“No.” The word slipped out. It was damnably hard to think with Chernevog touching him, oozing a warm sensation of comfort and friendliness.

“You see? You just want to please me. I’m very easy to please. Absolutely I am. I just want you to agree with me.” He tipped Pyetr’s chin up with a gentle fingertip and looked him in the eye. “You _do_ agree with me, don’t you?”

“Yes.” _No, damn it!_

“You’ll do as I ask, won’t you?” A thumb traced lightly over chapped lips. Pyetr’s mouth felt sensitive in its wake.

“Yes.” _Bully! Coward! Snake!_

“Ah, but you have to mean it.” Chernevog’s smile was beatific. “I _want_ you to mean it, Pyetr. You’ve turned down all my offers. The safety of your friend and your foolhardy love don’t sway you. Gold and gems and power won’t bring you to my side. What can I give you that will make you swear to me?” He knelt, took Pyetr’s face in both hands, and met his eyes warmly, sweet smile never faltering. “Perhaps I can offer you a piece of myself? Would you like me to offer you my heart? It’s in a good home right now, but I could call it back—for you, Pyetr Ilyitch. I would do that for you, if you would only accept me.” Leaning in slightly, he placed a small, soft, searing kiss on Pyetr’s lips.

Recoiling in shocked horror, Pyetr found himself lying sprawled on a fine rug, some absent part of his mind noting the soft texture beneath his cheek. Chernevog loomed over him, brushing aside nerveless hands raised to ward the man away.

“I want you to know everything I have to offer you,” Chernevog murmured, unbuttoning Pyetr’s shirt and stroking his bared chest. “Don’t you want that, too?”

“N-no,” he stammered, forcing the sound out past clenched teeth and Chernevog’s wishes.

“Liar.” A tongue tip trailed wetly over exposed skin, leaving Pyetr shivering and pushing feebly, ineffectually, at Chernevog’s shoulders. “If you can’t tell me what I want to hear, then keep silent.”

Wrapped about by wishes, penned in and pinned down by Chernevog’s desires, Pyetr could do nothing but lie there, helpless, with nothing more than a few twitches and a broken moan as his trousers were opened and nimble fingers dipped in to draw out his limp member.

“Close your eyes,” Chernevog commanded. Pyetr obeyed, willingly, not wanting to witness his humiliation. Feeling it was bad enough. A breath of warm, moist air accompanied the next order: “Think about the most gratifying encounter you’ve ever had.”

A multitude of faces from a misspent youth rifled through his mind. Nearly a decade’s worth of meaningless conquests flitted past, some slightly memorable, but none of them truly gratifying, none of them more than physical, and many tinged with pain over the consequences, including the magically healed stab wound in his side that had brought him here. The only memory that lingered in his mind was a quick, shivery kiss, very nearly innocent, from a ghostly girl with cold, wet hands. Even that brief contact had left him dazed and stupid and aching with a desire he daren’t confess in front of the girl’s own father.

The memory of _wanting_ pounded through his veins, wakening his response to Chernevog’s insistent hands and devouring mouth. He spent himself quickly, painting the damn snake’s silver tongue white before collapsing in on himself, utterly broken. Exhausted tears silently leaked out.

“You see how kind I can be?” The soft voice was in his ear; Pyetr hadn’t felt him move. “I can bring you pleasure as easily as pain, but I’d rather not have to hurt you. Tell me that you want to be mine.” A possessive hand curled about his throat.

“It would be kinder to kill me,” Pyetr replied, amazed at being able to do so. He opened his eyes, found Chernevog watching him, puzzled.

“You absolutely mean that, don’t you? You _are_ remarkable.” He kissed a cringing forehead. “Go to sleep,” he wished. “Forget this. Let _that_ be my last kindness toward you.”

Sinking rapidly into unconsciousness, Pyetr faintly heard, “It’s a pity. If I can’t have you, then you’re worthless to me. I wish things could be different.”


End file.
